(Not So) Lone Rider
by Apple in the Ocean
Summary: Who doesn't want to see a Cowboy stylized Alex Rider and co.? Plenty of quick-draws, horse riding, oil tank blowing and general craziness. Sounds good to me.


**AN- Well! There I was, happily scrolling down genres, when all of a sudden, I saw 'Western'! And then I burst out laughing and was like "Western?! Mwahahaha-" stopped suddenly, and was like: "LIGHTBULB!" (for all you _Despicable Me _lovers out there). Well, not really. I _did _get an idea which excited me, and so...I wrote it. I love a challenge and I love doing new things. I did notice ONE other Western novel and then was like "Awww...and I THOUGHT I WAS BEING REALLY CLEVER" but then thought, meh. Why not. Could be fun!**

**So, anyway, this is my FIRST ever Western story, so if any of you are true cowboy fans you may notice a few flaws and things. I _am _doing research into this, but I'm not following things _exactly _to how they were back then.**

**But, come on. Who doesn't want to see a Cowboy stylized Alex Rider and co.? Plenty of quick-draws, horse riding, oil tank blowing and general craziness. Sounds good to me.**

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_ "Faster!"_

A foot hit against the side of a cantering horses flank.

Dust flew as the horse picked up speed, straining, it's nostrils flaring as it ran, head down, mane whipping and tail streaking out behind it like a silver shooting star, sweat foaming around it's glossy pelt.

The wind as they rode made the teens eyes water, and he too leaned forward into the air flow, rising a little off of his saddle and leaning into the horses neck, gripping the reigns with brutish intensity.

He knew they were after him.

He could hear the sounds of their horses behind him.

And he knew that they weren't going to make it.

Gritting his teeth, he managed another breathless hiss to _run faster! _Urging his tiring horse to _run, run, run! _

The poor horse strained even further, a wheezing snort leaving it's frothing mouth, heat rising from it's coat in hot puffs of sweat and steam.

His hair whipped back from his head as he squinted, eyes watering and leaned in even further to the whistling air that passed them, his hat struggling to stay on his head, his scarf whipping back behind him as if it was struggling off from around his throat. Jerking on the reigns to try in futility to gain more speed, he lifted off of the saddle even further, trying to become like an arrow so that they could _move faster. _He didn't dare try and twist his head around to check how close his pursuers were getting _(were they catching up? They were catching up! How- how far behind him were they? Could he make it? What did he-)._

But his words were mere flimsy paper planes.

Suddenly, there was a crack, and his horse whinnied sharply and staggered painfully to the left, jarring the teenager as it did.

His eyes widened as he tried to gain control of the careening screeching horse whose hooves beat into the ground with loud bangs. Hands digging frantically into his mane as well as the reign, he pulled sharply, trying to swallow down his sudden rise of panic and fear. "Whoa, boy! Calm!" he coughed as the horse kicked up again.

Another crack and dust flew in front of them (a bullet hitting the ground?)

Screaming, the horse reared up, kicking it's front legs wildly in front of him, the teen yelling at the animal as he clung on, the whites of the horses eyes rolling in panic and fear.

This time, there was no crack, just a _swish _of air and a terrible pressure around his middle.

Cursing, the teen stared down at the rough rope wrapped around his torso.

A lasso.

"Dammit."

The air left his lungs-

-his eyes widened-

He choked as suddenly, he was yanked straight off of his still panicking horse.

Though he tried to brace his body as much as he could without being able to move his arm, the sudden hit to the ground still was harder than he could have ever prepared for.

Pain jarred through his body.

The world blanked to nothingness.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The gag in the teens mouth tasted disgustingly of salt and sand and sweat, and he hoped to _whatever was good _out there that this was a fresh gag and they hadn't just been lazy and given him one that they'd used many times before.

_Ugh._

His stomach turned at the thought.

Squinting in the glaring sunlight, glad for the peak of his hat shading his eyes, he slowly peered around him, wriggling his hands that were tied behind his back. Grunting softly, he managed to twist his head all the way to the left; ignoring the twinge of his head at the movement, and focussing instead of seeing where he was- and where his capturers were.

It seemed that he had been propped up underneath a tree for some reason, his back pressed against the twisted and gnarled bark.

Wincing, he frowned.

Couldn't they have placed him in a _better _position? Shifting to try and gain a little more comfort, his eyes snapped to his legs where shackles clinked as he moved.

Closing his eyes briefly and emitting a long-suffering sigh from his nostrils, the teenager grit his teeth around his (old, sweaty..._please _not already used) gag.

Wonderful. They'd chained his feet.

A soft whinnying caught his attention, and he turned his head to the right, relief lighting his eyes when he saw his horse, Road leaning its head towards him and scuffing at the ground with one hoof, a little ways off from him. The horse pulled on the rope tied around it and whinnied again- a little sharper this time; more impatient.

_Yeah, I know, boy, _he thought, struggling with his own ropes.

If he could just reach that knife he kept in his boots...

The sound of thudding footsteps stopped his straining to reach his boots.

Peering up with irritation showing clear in his walnut brown eyes, he glared up at the man and one woman who stood over him, the man chewing noisily on some sunflower seeds and the woman looking as if she wished she was somewhere else.

"Sheriff wants to see ya'," she grumbled, reaching down to pull him roughly to his feet, her sun browned hand gripping tight around his forearm. "Jeff," she snapped. "Stop chewin' those damn things an' help me drag the boy!"

Jeff scowled darkly and shoved his Sunflower seeds in one pocket, reaching out to grab the teens other arm. "Alright, woman," he muttered. "I heard ya',"

Sniffing at him, the woman began to haul the teenager away.

Who wasn't making it easy for them.

"Oh for Pete's sake!" the woman snarled as the boy dragged his feet and pulled. "Just stay-"

With one clever jerk of his arm, the boy slammed his elbow into the mans side.

Grunting, winded, the man loosened his grip on the teenager long enough for him to twist to the side once again and ram his shoulder into the man.

"Jeff! You moron!" the woman shrieked as the teen turned on her next. Pulling away, she reached for her pistol strapped into her holster, but wasn't fast enough as the teenager ducked and sprang at her, knocking her to the ground and her pistol out of her hand. The scuffle on the dusty ground didn't last long, ended when the teenager managed to wrench one hand out of the rope behind his back, and smacked at the pressure point in her neck.

Like a ragdoll, she crumpled to the floor.

Staggering up, with a grimace, the teen pulled the wet gag from his mouth and threw it on the ground, spitting once to the side to try and rid his mouth of the foul taste and then reaching down to pull the keys from off of the womans belt and unclip the chains from around his feet, letting them drop on the ground, too.

A sharp whinny caught his attention.

"Yeah, yeah, boy," he muttered, moving over, voice tempered with affection. "I didn't forget about you," stretching out, he untied the horse and received a playful butt of the head for his doing so.

Rubbing a gloved hand over the horses glossy pelt, he placed one foot in the stirrup, ready to push himself up and onto the horse when there was a sudden click behind him.

He paused.

"Down. Now,"

Road snorted, turning his large head to gaze at the person stood behind the teenager.

"Crawley," the teenager said dryly, slowly taking his foot off of the stirrup and turning to face the man behind him.

He was a bland looking man, forgettable in appearance, his hands bare from gloves, and his legs clad in corduroy trousers instead of the teenagers rough jeans tucked into dark brown boots. On his head was a traditional cowboy hat but the lips were shorter, not shadowing the face, and he wore a plain flannel shirt buttoned up with a sharp looking black tie with a pin. But, most of all, in his hand, he held a pistol that was pointed towards the boy.

Smiling sarcastically, the teenager swept off his hat and gave an exaggerated bow. "To what," he drawled, straightening up and dropping his hat back on his head, eyes sharp. "Do I owe the pleasure of such a _fine _greeting today," he scowled darkly at the man.

Crawley's facial expression didn't even flicker from blank. "Follow me," he said, voice monotonous. His eyes flickered over to Road. "And make sure you control that wild animal,"

"His name's Road," he muttered, reaching out for the reigns and tugging him along after Crawley who still trained the pistol on him. "You can drop that now," he snapped, nodding to the weapon.

Crawley didn't reply, but let his gaze wander over to the two unconcious people on the ground.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered.

"Indeed," the man replied crisply, gesturing with his pistol to 'move along'.

One hand slung casually in his pocket, the other on the reign of Road, the teenager followed (or was more threatened to follow) Crawley on foot towards a smart looking town, the buildings neat and placed in an orderly and precise fashion.

Witholding a sigh, the teenager hesitated once upon the entrance of the town (which read South Town painted in beautiful flowing lettering on a wooden placard) only to be moved on again by a nudge of the pistol into his back. Road snorted dangerously at Crawley, and the boy hushed him quickly, uncertain as to whether the man would actually put a bullet in his horse and not wanting to risk it.

"Quickly now," Crawley pressured as they walked through the busy town square, the pistol now out of sight but most likely still glaring with metal eyes at the teenagers back.

"I'm moving, I'm moving," he complained, the towering height of his horse helping to move some of the less watchful people out of the way.

"Here."

The teenager clapped one hand on the top of his hat and bent his head upwards, peering at the building in front of him. It read _Royal and General Bank _in a cool script across a hanging plaque dangled by thin chains. "Lovely," he said dryly, leading his horse to the trough of water and telling him sternly to _stay put._

"Come on," impatiently Crawley steered him inside the cool interior of the building, ignoring the receptionists with practiced ease and leading the boy up some stairs and towards a door.

Crawley nodded to the door. "Knock and then-"

Ignoring him, the teen pushed the door open and then strode in, hands slung in his pockets and a mingled annoyed and tired look on his face. "Sheriff," he nodded stiffly.

The man on the leather chair looked up. "Alex Rider," he said softly, the shutters in the room barely open, casting grey shadows about the room. Lifting a hand, the man flapped a hand disinterestedly towards a seat. "Sit," the voice obviously displayed that it couldn't' care less whether he sat, stood or levitated.

Choosing the option of sitting, Alex Rider sat unceremoniously on the chair, tipping his head back and pushing his hat off and leaving it to hand around his neck by the fraying red cord. "I'd say it was a pleasure-"

"Yes, yes," Sheriff Blunt said in boredom, cutting Alex off. "Next time you come into my office, Alex, I would very much like you to sit down and be quiet, understood?"

He opened his mouth to reply, eyes angry. "Well _excuse-"  
_

"_Understood?" _the voice hardly changed volume, but the inflection upon the word was completely different. It was dangerous.

His mouth snapped shut. Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Good boy," he said detachedly. "Now, onto more pressing matters at hand," he leaned forward, the leather of the seat creaking as Alex watched him warily, stiffening as the man placed his chin on his fingers and examined him under blank grey eyes. "Care to tell me what you were thinking by running?"

The air in the room suddenly was a whole lot cooler than before.

Mrs Jones, his deputy moved around to stand by the side of Blunt's chair, her pebble eyes gazing down unfeelingly at Alex who sat racking his mind for an answer that would give him the less amount of trouble to be in.

Reaching up a finger, he scratched at the side of his face, a little surprised when some dry blood fell off. He couldn't remember hurting himself. "Well, I just finished the mission and I just..." he trailed off, mouth dry. "Needed some space?" he tried weakly.

The Sheriff's eyes remained fixed on Alex's face, expression still dull and emotionless. "You needed some space," he repeated.

Swallowing, _(his mouth was so dry!) _he nodded lamely, cursing his tired brain for coming up with such a weak and pitiful excuse. "Yeah,"

"Are you suggesting," the Sheriff leaned back, hooding his eyes as he examined the sun-bronzed teenager with granite eyes. "That we do not give you enough space?"

He cringed away from the danger in the voice, knowing that there was a trick in there somewhere, but too tired and dizzy to be able to work it out properly. So, he did the second safest thing (second to run) and said nothing.

Slowly, after a pause filled with nothing but silence, Sheriff Blunt nodded, tapping his fingers on the redwood desk in front of him. "As I thought," he murmured. "The mission was a success. Your actions afterwards weren't,"  
He tensed at the gleam that entered Blunt's eyes.

"Mrs Jones?" the powerful man asked.

The woman stepped forward, her long black skirt rustling at the movement, and her kid gloved hands pulling up some folders. "Alex Rider's mission was at a 100% success rate," she read out, tracing the words with one finger. "But straight after he had taken out the phony oil merchant, he then ignored our other agents who came to pull him back to headquarters, is said to have 'kicked one down a well and pushed another into a creek' and then set off on horseback, where he was found five days later by Agent Jeff and Agent Jane," she snapped the folder shut and gazed at Alex who shifted, uncomfortable under her stony eyes. "The two agents who were attacked by Agent Rider were just pulled out of hospital today,"

"The creek was an accident," he said quickly, holding up his palms as the silence stretched. "I didn't know there'd be crocs in there!"

"This is the third time you've attempted to run after one of your missions, Alex," the Sheriff said, blatantly ignoring the teenagers before comment.

"I don't-" his slightly frantic protest was cut off by the Sheriff's almost bored voice.

"It's quickly getting...tiring. You know the drill, Rider,"

A little panicked now, Alex stood up. "Listen, I _finished _the mission! I got another 100% you can't-"

"Sit down, Alex," Mrs Jones instructed.

He hesitated, hands pressed into the desk in front of him. "But-"

"I said: sit _down,_"

Biting the inside of his mouth to stop from arguing back, he forced himself to sit down.

"Sixth time lucky?" Blunt mused when Alex had sat down. "Hm. Is that what you thought, Alex?"

Clenching his jaw, he made sure not to show any reaction or _say _anything. Blunt would just _leap _at the chance to tie him down even more.

"As I said. You know the drill. And you do know the rules. Care to cite them to me, Rider?"

He didn't. He _really _didn't, but for the time being, there was no ground underneath his feet- nothing but air that only the _damn _Sheriff was holding him up over. "No running in the halls, no chewing gum and sticking it under desks, no drawing mustaches on city election pos-"

"Alex."

Scowling rebelliously, he rolled his eyes and said the real rules this time. "When a mission is done and completed, the agent must follow the head's directions and return straight to headquarters where they will then be debriefed and relieved from field work until the Sheriff deems fit,"

"And what happens if the agent doesn't return straight back to headquarters?" Blunt tested quietly.

His fingers clenched into fists. "They get called in for questioning and interrogation. If found guilty of treason, they will be hung. If found innocent and with valid reason for their not returning straight back, they will be set free."

"And what happens to you if you don't return straight back to headquarters, Alex?" Blunt pressed, his eyes saying that some sick part of him was actually _enjoying _this. _Enjoying _pushing him around like he was.

Squashing down his rage, he forced the words out in as neutral a voice as possible, staring at a spot beyond Blunts head, hating himself- _hating _himself for saying the words- for- for _speaking _the words. "As I am the property of Royal and General Bank," _(acid boiled in his stomach) _"then any following of my own will is therefore a perceived and direct disobedience to the state and Sheriff and will therefore be punished by however the Sheriff of the state sees fit," he stopped sharply, his mouth snapping shut and unable to stop the blazing heat in his eyes.

"Very good," the man applauded gently, _(was he laughing at him?) _eyes still pinned on Alex. "This is the third time, isn't it?" he turned to Mrs Jones who still stood next to him.

"The sixth time in three months, I believe, sir," she agreed.

"Ah, of course," he turned once again to the quiet teenager in front of him.

Seeing the look in the Sheriff's eye, Alex wondered whether it would be worth it to try and fight back. To try-

"I do hope this will be the last time we have to go through this, Alex," his eyes burnt with black flames. "It loses its novelty after the first time," suddenly, the man nodded.

Alex stood up as men melted out of the shadows, grabbing his arms.

Glaring down at the Sheriff, he refused to struggle or beg or do _anything _even _close _to asking him to call his words back. He had _pride, _dammit.

"I'll see you shortly, Alex." the Sheriff's mouth moved close to what _could _be a smile.

Alex didn't make a sound as he was forcefully marched from the office.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Scowling, Alex sat with his knees to his chest in the holding room, nursing the bruises on his face with saliva and gentle nudges of his fingers.

"Morons don't know how to hold back," he muttered, lightly cleaning the blood from around his nose with the back of his hand, careful not to irritate his split upper lip.

Tipping his head back, he screwed his eyes shut at the ceiling, cursing Blunt, Jones, their stupid lackeys, Crawley, missions and his own stupid uncle for getting him in this mess in the first place.

And then he cursed himself for being an idiot and accepting their terms in the beginning.

Getting out of blackmail was a tricky thing to do.

"Hidden guardians of the state," he said scornfully, letting out a short and bitter laugh out into the empty room, remembering a time when Mrs Jones had told that to him after he'd lay bruised and bloody after escape attempt number 4. She'd crouched down, dark skirt picking up dust and had said, offering him a peppermint, that the only reason they did things like that was because he was _too good to lose, _a _valuable asset to the state, _and _as the hidden guardians of the state, _if it meant making harsh decisions to help the state, they would make harsh decisions.

Snorting to himself once again, a little quieter when he realised that he was actually all alone in the small cell _(all alone...) _he shrugged to himself and settled back, intent on 'cleaning' out the rest of his wounds.

It wasn't long, maybe only half and hour later when there was a heavy clanking of chains and locks, and his door swung open noisily, making Alex look up from his cleaning of his wounds.

"Out," the man grunted, standing in the square of light and glowering down at the teenager.

Standing up painfully but hiding his discomfort, Alex managed a small smile, the heels of his boots _clinking _on the stone floor as he glided up to the door. "Come on," he teased, slipping past the man and out into the darker than before hallway. "You can reach those two syllables. You can do it!"

The man curled a lip at him. "Shut up," he snapped, shoving him in the back where Alex just _knew _a nasty bruise would have been made even worse.

Hiding the pain that the movement had caused, Alex widened his eyes and let delight and melancholy pass through his eyes. "You _did it, Joe! _I always knew you could!" his bottom lip trembled and his eyes filled, roughly, he rubbed a gloved fist across his eyes. "They grow up so fast," he whispered, voice cracking.

Shoving him pointlessly up the stairs, the renamed 'Joe' (who actually had a very fine name of Fredrick, thank you very much) glared at the teenager, manhandling him towards the office where not long ago he had just come out of. "Say one more word and I'll hang you by your own intestines," he hissed.

Alex paused, a flash of horror and disgust passing across his face. "Holy- Joe! That's really violent!" he rebuked, reaching out and slapping his hands before the man could pull away. "_Bad, _Joe!" he scolded.

The man- who had a healthy does of hatred for teenagers, let something ugly fill his eyes, and would've happily reached out to show the kid how to _really _slap someone, but never got the chance as the teenager hopped away, calling _"Can't catch me!" _over his shoulder and then flinging open the Sheriff's door and darting in and out of sight.

"Welcome back, Alex,"

"Sure, sure, 'course it is," he muttered, not bothering to sit down,; instead choosing to sullenly gaze around the drab office. "What is it this time, then?" he asked irately.

"Manners, Alex," Mrs Jones commented quietly, eyes flashing purposefully over his newly acquired bruises.

Sniffing, Alex turned away from her, but didn't say anything else, either.

" For your next mission-"

"Wait, wait," ignoring the throbbing of his sides, he broke in, glaring at the two occupants of the room. "I just got _back _from an assignment! You can't send me back on another one straight after! I need time to- time to-" he hesitated, wondering what he needed time to _do _now he hadn't got a house. "You just can't!" he concluded instead.

"On the contrary, Alex," Mr Blunt swirled a glass of expensive sake, the ice clinking round in the glass and the light sending beads of stars spiralling into the room. "Your mission finished five days ago. If you had chosen to _come back _straight after your mission, then those five days _would be _your recuperation time. Rather, you chose to spend them running," he looked at the the teen dryly, sipping from the glass. "You have nothing to argue with, Alex,"

"I-"

"Hand him the file, Tulip,"

Alex hesitated on taking the file from the womans hands, but, after catching her eye, ended up taking the paper and holding it limply in his hand.

"For this mission, you will be working in a team," Blunt said woodenly, the glass up to his lips again, eyes not looking at Alex, but rather at the wood on his desk.

"A team?" Alex said scathingly, balancing the folder in his hands and frowning. "What do you _mean _a team? You _know _that I work alone,"

"Indeed. Except, this mission is a little _different _from your usual ones. This time, we will be training your propensity in working in a rapid action setting and with a less...sneaky approach,"

Alex's mind spun, trying to unpick and unravel all of the words he'd been told. "You want me to take part in a...reconnaissance?"

"No, Alex. We want you to inspect the new mayor of Georgia Town. It has come to our notice that the newly elected mayor has certain dealings with criminal trafficking and also has connections with other criminal organisations. Also, the way he got _into _his position seems to be less than favourable and clean." the glass was placed down onto the table, condensation scattering off of the surface and onto the table in tiny silver droplets. "The man is not to be trifled with. Sending you in alone would be pointless and would reveal to him that his position of criminal activity has been picked up on, and would thus give his the opportunity to cover his tracks. Therefore, we are sending you in with a group- a new family of wealthy ranch owners and cowboys who would be _delighted _to assist the mayor in the production of his town."

Alex let the words fill his head and frowned over them. "There's something you're not telling me," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Another reason you're sending me in and not just leaving it to another agent," he looked up, assessing the faceless man in front of him. "Isn't there?"

The smile that the Sheriff sent his way was less than comforting. It played dark around the edges, like the drop of night just before the evening was through. "The rest of the mission directives are held in the folder. Good luck, and we'll be seeing you soon,"

Snorting, unimpressed by not being answered, Alex turned on his heel and was about to leave when Blunt called him back.

Twisting his head round, he gazed a suspiciously and apprehensively back.

Two tombstone eyes gazed back. "Another try at running," he said, cold voice pooling in the room. "And I won't be so lenient,"

Alex felt a chill run through him, his bruises suddenly aching more than they had been before.

"Good luck, Alex."

The Sheriff smiled.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I'm back boy," Alex said quietly, agreeing as the horse nudged again and again, eager to see him again. Cringing and grimacing at the same time, Alex shrank away as the horse swiped a smelly tongue up the side of his face, tipping his hat off of his head.

"_Road!" _he tried to quench his laughter, aware that the people outside of the Royal and General were giving him weird looks. "Stop that!" pushing the horse's head away as he made to do it again, Alex dipped his hand in the water trough and washed his face free of horse saliva and dried blood.

Shaking the water from his hair and shoving his hands back into his gloves, Alex drew an arm across his face, ridding as much water as he could. "Another mission, boy," he murmured, pushing the folder into the knapsack tied onto his Road's saddle. Pushing his feet into the stirrups, he pulled Road back gently, and ignored the twinging of his wounds.

The map had said that he would be meeting the group north-west from here,a couple of miles upwards. Squinting up at the sun; using one hand to sheild his eyes and the other to lead his horse, he peered at the position of the burning orb.

Shrugging, he dropped his hand and steered Road to burst free from the towns gates.

He would be a few minutes later than was arranged, but that was the Sheriff's fault for holing him up and having his lackeys beat him.

His body throbbed at the memory.

"Oh, shut up," he whispered, screwing up his eyes as his mind began replaying the event. "Go on, boy!" he called as they finally passed the towns exit.

Road burst into a trot and then a gallop, flying away.

Leaning down into the horse, Alex squinted, determined to make it there as soon as possible. The desert wasn't the safest place to be at night, and the sun was already dropping to a burnt bronze, its stomach almost pressing against the ground.

They'd have to move fast if they wanted to get there before nightfall. Urging his horse to ride _just a little faster, _Ale allowed a wild grin to sweep across his face, and just held back from whooping at the _freedom _of it all. Galloping across the wide open desert, no barriers or walls or had faced agents beside him. Just him, his horse, the burning sun and the ground.

_(and no food or water) _

Scowling at the unhelpful voice, he bent into his horse again, pushing him to run a little more to the right. Blunt and Jones had ordered him to carry no food with him this time, no doubt afraid of him running off into the desert again. Laughing darkly to himself, Alex closed his eyes once and let the air rush past him. Though he tried to ignore it, Alex couldn't help but feel just a _little _nervous. The Sheriff had let him go with only a brutal beating. That was it. No _"You are staying locked up in the holding cell until I deem you repentant", _no threats to harm his only friend Tom, just a beating (as agonizing as it was) and a mission. Which led him to the belief that there was something in this mission that would _not _be a walk in the park for him.

Something that probably held personal ties over him.

Something that could _hurt _him and send him crawling back to the Royal and General with a tail in between his legs and an apology in his mouth.

Something dangerous.

But, the anxious and shadowy thoughts soon dispersed under the burning of the sun and the _whoosh! _of the air, and this time, Alex did allow a whoop to leave him lips, Road whinnying in an excited answer to the thrill inducing sound that left his lips.

For now, he was free!

_(until you reach your new group)_

He scowled again. "Oh, can it."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**AN- ): Well. THAT was the worst ending EVER. ): Anyway. Sigh. Please tell me what you think, yeah? ): (: Meeeeeehhhh...I've hardly been happy with _anything _I've written these past few days. ): K-Unit next chapter, anyway! :D**

**Me: So tell me what you want, what you really really want!**

**You: I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want! I wanna (type your review here...)**

**(PS. Lyrics are probably wrong)**

**(PPS. I forgot to mention in TPoaC, but a lovely person has done some wonderful fanart for me! The link will be placed on my profile later! If you're reading this, thank you!)**


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